


Holding Our Own

by LoquitorLatinae



Series: Holding Our Own [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ambiguous post-time-skip setting, Hurt/Comfort, Ingrid is a good friend, M/M, No BL/BE war mention though, Still at Garreg Mach, depictions of fluff, depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:27:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22615582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoquitorLatinae/pseuds/LoquitorLatinae
Summary: Sylvain had already been wounded, taking a blast of Cutting Wind meant for Felix straight to the chest, before he charged after the warlock into the thick forest as their enemy retreated. There was a good chance that Sylvain would have caught him, which is what had Felix so panicked.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: Holding Our Own [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1668460
Comments: 4
Kudos: 101





	Holding Our Own

**Author's Note:**

> This Hurt/Comfort turned more into a hurt/COMFORT but, what can I say? I’m a sucker for soft moments after pain™. This contains depictions of violence that are somewhat mild for an "M" rating, but I wanted to be safe with the rating I assigned. Sorry if you're here for more detailed depictions of sexy times; those aren't part of this story. Yet.

“Sylvain?”

Gritting his teeth, Felix slashed at another branch, hacking his way through the heavy brush toward where he had seen Sylvain gallop off not a moment before.

“Sylvain!”

Sylvain had already been wounded, taking a blast of Cutting Wind meant for Felix straight to the chest, before he charged after the warlock into the thick forest as their enemy retreated. There was a good chance that Sylvain would have caught him, which is what had Felix so panicked. No, not panicked, he just…There was a cold sweat beading up on his forehead, stinging his eyes; his hands were shaking; his heart was thundering in his chest. Yes, yes he was panicking.

“ _Sylvain!_ ”

The bitter stench of charred flesh and hair reached his nose and he turned left, chasing after it, and two seconds later he burst into a clearing. His sharp gaze swept across the field and before his mind could even make sense of it all he was moving, nearly flying across the grass, and brought his sword up just in time to deflect an axe from slamming down toward Sylvain’s head as he lay prone on the ground.

Biting back an angry sound as the impact of metal and metal reverberated through the hilt of his sword and down through his arms, Felix heaved his sword back up and forced the warrior who had just tried to decapitate Sylvain back a few steps. Around them was carnage, but it didn’t take too much work to figure out what had happened.

The warlock Sylvain had been following was sprawled out on the ground to their right, blood pooling up beneath his body, and another man, another warrior by the style of his armor, laid crumpled to their left, Sylvain’s lance protruding from his gut. The scent of char was coming from Sylvain’s horse, which had a bad burn mark on his flank and an axe wound to its neck. Sylvain must have been thrown after defeating the warlock and the first warrior, only to be taken down by the second who had just tried to strike his finishing blow.

All this flashed through Felix’s mind in a moment and he had already brought his sword back up to guard as the warrior rushed toward him with an enraged cry. He was quick, but Felix was quicker. Gracefully turning away from the man’s blow, he twisted his body around and brought his sword up, slashing at his side, just below his chest plate. There was a spatter of blood and the warrior stumbled and, before he could catch his feet, Felix spun and slashed his blade up, slicing a thin line arcing across the man’s unprotected throat. There was a terrible gurgling sound before the man stumbled then collapsed, landing face-first onto the grass as blood began to pour from his wounds.

After one more look to make sure that there were no more enemies on the field, Felix turned back around sharply, all thoughts of the warrior’s corpse vanishing as he finally took in Sylvain’s appearance. The fabric on the left side of his lower body was singed, likely from whatever fire attack had injured his horse, and there was a large bruise covering one cheek, a cut across his opposite forehead causing blood to drench half of his face in a shroud of red.

A sickening panic welled back up in Felix’s throat and he fell to his knees beside Sylvain as his legs gave out. “You’re so stupid!” Violently sheathing his sword, mindless of the blood that still coated it, he reached up to grip Sylvain’s shoulder. The breath was punched from his lungs as the other’s eyes flickered open, his amber eyes clouded. “Sylvain, how can you be this stupid?”

Felix might have been shouting. He wasn’t sure, but his throat hurt and Sylvain winced, his brows furrowing before he gasped out a pained sound as the cut on his forehead stretched. “Is now…really the best time to, to be yelling at me?” He was having trouble breathing.

Swallowing, Felix’s other hand moved to rest, feather-light, on Sylvain’s chest, feeling him struggle for air. What injuries couldn’t he see under the other’s armor? Had the blow from the Cutting Wind spell he’d taken earlier broken a rib? Or maybe it had been getting thrown from his horse? “I can’t believe you would chase after that man yourself! Did you even stop to think that he might be leading you into a trap?” Of course it had been a trap! A lone warlock wouldn’t have engaged them in a fight without a plan. They had been on what was supposed to be a routine patrol, with the others not far away.

Sylvain shuddered beneath his hands. “Tried to hurt you…Couldn’t let him get away.”

“You brainless oaf! I’m fine. You’re the one who’s…!” Felix cut himself off. He couldn’t even say it. But, no, Sylvain would be fine. He was too, too…too _bright_ to die. Not like this. “Why did you jump in the way and let the Cutting Wind hit you? I could have taken the blow! Better than you did, even with your hard head.” It was getting hard to speak, his words growing thick in his throat, but it was this or fall silent and hear the rasping way Sylvain was trying to pull air into his lungs.

Felix heard the noise all the same when a breathy, stuttered laugh burst past Sylvain’s lips along with a small spatter of blood. “Hah—ah! Damn,” groaning, he rolled his head back, “hurts to laugh…You keep talking that w-way, I’ll start thinking you like me…”

“Of course I—!” Felix’s words caught and he bowed his head, blindly moving his hand down to grip Sylvain’s, the man’s long fingers giving his a weak squeeze.

“…Felix…?”

Felix could only shake his head. It was too risky to open his eyes; tear drops were threatening to well up and he wouldn’t let himself cry over Sylvain’s stupidity. Not even if…if…But, no. “It’s nothing,” he finally managed to rasp out. He squeezed Sylvain’s hand again. “If you would just listen to me this wouldn’t have—" There hadn’t been an answering squeeze back on his hand. His eyes shot open and up to see Sylvain’s eyes closed as well, his head lolled back and his hand having falling limp in Felix’s grip. “Sylvain…? Sylvain! No!” Lurching up, Felix grabbed Sylvain’s shoulders instead and shook them but there was no response. But he couldn’t have—not while he had his head down, he couldn’t have—"Don’t you die on me! Don’t you dare!”

Cursing, Felix sat back down again and pulled Sylvain’s head into his lap, his hands flying to the other’s cheeks before sliding down to hold him tighter. “Come on. Come on! Don’t leave me.” Why hadn’t they brought healing supplies with them? It was just supposed to be a simple scouting mission, but he should have known. He should have prepared. Maybe then he could actually have been doing something. He could feel a damp warmth seeping down from Sylvain’s body into his tunic and breeches. Sylvain was going to bleed out in his arms if he didn’t get help soon. Someone else had to be nearby. The other Blue Lions had to be close. They hadn’t run that far. Felix looked desperately up into the woods around them. “Help! Can anyone hear me? Please, we need help!”

Should he go run and look for help? But, no, what if he couldn’t find his way back to Sylvain in time? And he couldn’t just leave him here by himself in a field of corpses. Felix wasn’t about to let him join their ranks, especially not alone and abandoned.

“Please! Can anyone hear me?!”

Felix was desperately straining for the slightest sign of aid, so his ears caught the barely there sound of a horse’s whiney carried on the wind. He immediately straightened, his breath catching as he scanned the trees around them. “Hello? Can you hear me? We need help!”

There was a chance it was enemy reinforcements, but at this point it was a chance he was willing to take. And Goddess help them if it was true. He’d tear through them with far more viciousness than the Boar Prince had ever shown if they were coming to try and finish Sylvain off.

His pulse quickened as he heard a horse again, closer this time, but there was no brush rustling, no telling what direction the rider was coming from. But then—wait. He heaved a breath of relief as a pegasus burst over the tree line, the sight of the rider’s familiar blonde hair and glowing lance enough to spark hope in his chest.

“Felix! There you are.” Ingrid landed in the clearing with a rush of air, her brow furrowed as she gazed around at the bloody mess around them. “What happened? Have you seen—” Her eyes reached them again and she gasped, finally recognizing the form pulled into his lap. “ _Sylvain_!”

“He’s still alive!” His pulse was weak, but it was there, and he could feel his chest weakly rising and falling beneath the arm he had wrapped tightly around Sylvain’s chest, as if he was trying to physically keep him from falling apart. “Get Mercedes! Quick!” She was their best healer and was maybe the only one who could keep Sylvain alive until they got him back to the monastery. Even having Ingrid fly him back would probably be too much for him as he was.

She seemed to understand the same because she clenched her jaw but gave a determined nod. “Keep him alive! I’ll be right back, I promise.” Ingrid nudged her pegasus and, with one flap of its large wings, they were again airborne.

Felix watched her soar off, knowing that there was no one better for her task, then turned back to Sylvain. He was already paler than he had been, and Felix feared the blood in his cheeks might have seeped out to soak the ground around them. “Ingrid is going to get you help. Just hang on.” He wasn’t ready for this. He couldn’t go through this again. Not with him. Not _without_ him. He couldn’t…Squeezing his eyes shut as hot tears threatened to spill out, held his breath until the feeling passed. Gasping out a curse, he forced his eyes open again and moved his hand to caress the side of Sylvain’s face. He was still warm. “You stay alive, you hear me? I’ll never forgive you if you die. I…couldn’t lose you too. Not you.” His vision blurred and he realized he hadn’t been able to hold his tears back.

With an aborted, desperate noise, Felix ducked his head down and pressed his lips to the unbloodied half of Sylvain’s forehead, then his nose. The corners of his lips were bloodied, stopping him from continuing on, part of him worried that he’d somehow hurt Sylvain further. “Don’t you die without me. We promised.”

“Mnn…where are we?”

The words roused Felix and he blinked his eyes open as he felt a warm form beneath him shift. Flushing, he sat up, rubbing at his face where his cheek had been pressed against Sylvain’s chest. It was still light outside, meaning he hadn’t passed out for too long. He leaned back in the chair he had pulled up to Sylvain’s cot. “The infirmary. Manuela’s sleeping, finally. Healing you took a lot out of her. I said I’d watch you while she was out.”

Sylvain looked groggy, but the fog had cleared from his eyes and his skin had lost its ashen pallor. He stared up at the ceiling, blinking a few times as he seemed to process Felix’s words, before he rolled his head over to look at Felix and his lips curled up into a grin. “Fell asleep on the job? That’s not like you.”

Huffing, Felix folded his arms across his chest. “Yes, well…” His sentence trailed off, left hanging in the space between them. He didn’t have a response to that. It _wasn’t_ like him.

“You still look tired too.”

He _was_ tired. It had been about 18 hours since Sylvain had been injured, and before that Felix had already been awake for around eight. The lack of sleep, plus the stress of yesterday and this morning, had left him drained. He didn’t want to let Sylvain know how touch-and-go it had been, how Mercedes and then Manuela had poured nearly every ounce of magic they had into his broken body, sealing up internal and external injuries alike, re-growing tissue, and replacing all of the blood that he’d lost. He’d been wounded more badly than even Felix had realized and it had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done to just sit back and watch, useless on the sidelines, as they stitched him back together with medicine and magic. No, if he had anything to say about it, Sylvain would never know anything about that, or the way Felix had paced or that he’d yelled at one of the monks assisting Manuela who said there as a chance Sylvain wouldn’t make it, chasing him out of the Infirmary. Maybe he could pay Manuela not to mention it either. She might be bribable. “You look worse.”

Sylvain’s grin widened. “Ha, yeah…probably do.” His smile quickly faded though as he watched Felix who tried not squirm under his gaze. He didn’t know what the other was seeing and that made him nervous. After several beats too long, he spoke again, his voice softer. “How bad was it?”

Felix shook his head, choosing to study the weave of the infirmary’s cream-colored bed sheets rather than meet the other’s eyes. His voice was still rougher than he liked. “Manuela says you should make a full recovery with only a few scars to show for it.”

A frown shadowed Sylvain’s face. “That bad? I’m sorry.”

Felix’s gaze bounced up in surprise, brows pinching together. “What are you apologizing for?”

“You’re trying to act all calm and collected, but I’m sure I worried you. So, I’m sorry for putting you through that.”

“You should be apologizing for acting like a fool instead.” Sylvain opened his mouth to speak but Felix cut him off. “Though they’d only be empty words, so I’d rather you didn’t say anything at all. You’ve done it enough in the past that I don’t expect you to learn your lesson now. You cause me nothing but trouble.”

“It’s a bit ironic, right? Since I was trying to keep you out of it. No good deed goes unpunished. Though, I’ll admit, I do lose my composure when it’s you involved. I’m so used to keeping you safe that when someone comes after you, I just react on instinct instead of thinking things through.”

“Don’t blame me for your mistakes.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Sylvain had the gall to laugh, though the sound was half-hearted. “Sorry for that too then.” Some of the humor left his face as he watched Felix. Just, watched him again, looking for something on his face that Felix still couldn’t begin to guess at. But this time he seemed to find it all the same as a glint sparked in his eye. “Hey…” Felix cautiously tilted his head to show that he was listening, “even with as bad as I’m sure I look, any chance I can convince you to kiss me again?”

“ _What?_ ” Starting so badly that he nearly fell out of his chair, Felix gaped at Sylvain. He couldn’t have possibly just said—

“I don’t remember much after getting thrown from my horse…I couldn’t get my eyes to open, and my hearing was starting to fade out, but I’m pretty sure I felt you kiss me.”

“You were imagining it.”

“Maybe. But I don’t think you’d be blushing so bad if I had been.”

Felix scowled even as he felt his blush deepen and spread to his ears. He didn’t…how was he supposed to respond to this? He had never thought Sylvain would find out about his…infatuation. Or, if he did, that he would want to reciprocate. Was this just some sick joke? Sylvain had a cruel side, but surely he wouldn’t strike such a low blow now. He could make an excuse, say that he had lost his mind with worry thinking that Sylvain was dying. Would that be less embarrassing than this? It had to be; he couldn’t think of anything that would be worse than this. Maybe if he—

His thoughts scattered as Sylvain reached over and caught his hand, squeezing his fingers before bringing his hand up to his lips and pressing a dry kiss against his knuckles. “You’re thinking too much.” His voice did nothing to knit Felix’s mind back together and he could only offer a stunned stare in response. After waiting a few more seconds, Sylvain let their clasped hands fall to his chest and winced. “Man…If my almost dying isn’t enough to make you admit you like me, I might be out of luck, huh?”

Felix blinked then swallowed around the feeling of his heart jumping up into his throat. Could Sylvain actually return his feelings? “You’re so…insufferable.” He forced his words out in a raspy sort of groan and flopped forward, his forehead resting on top of their hands. He couldn’t see Sylvain’s face, but he swore he could _hear_ a broad smile breaking across his lips. He could certainly feel the other’s heartbeat thumping in his chest, wonderfully alive and excited.

“Is that a ‘yes’ about the kiss?”

Looking up—and, sure enough, there was a wide smile lighting Sylvain’s face—Felix moved again and answered him by pressing their lips together.

After so many years of silently, reluctantly pining, the moment wasn’t nearly as magical as he thought it might be. There were no sparks, no glowing light or bells ringing. Sylvain was weak and dehydrated and, despite his teasing, gasped in surprise and turned the kiss into an awkward mess of lips and teeth. But it was somehow still perfect. And it got even better when Sylvain tilted his head and kissed Felix back like a drowning man tasting air.

Pulling away far earlier than he wanted to catch his breath, Felix rested their foreheads together, having pulled himself nearly fully onto the cot beside Sylvain over the course of the last few minutes. “I don’t know why I put up with you.” How did he fall for such a ridiculous man?

Sylvain grinned up at him, looking amazingly breathless himself. “Maybe you love me?”

“What would you know about that?”

“Well, _I_ love _you_ , so that’s something.”

It sounded as if he meant that. Anger—or was it frustration?—flashed through Felix like a bolt of lightning and he pounced, surging forward and pressing his forearm against Sylvain’s collarbone to keep him pinned to the mattress. “How long?”

“Watch it! I’m injured, you know,” Sylvain almost whined and squirmed under Felix’s arm to test his hold. But Felix only pressed down harder and Sylvain released a puff of air. “How long what?”

“How long have you loved me?”

“How long have we known each other?”

That angry-frustrated feeling flared back up. “ _What?_ Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Why were you always sleeping around?” Had he really wasted so much time thinking Sylvain only saw him as a little brother while the other was busy trying to flirt his way up every skirt he saw?

“I didn’t think I could ever have you, didn’t think you’d ever want me like that, and I was trying to fill the void, but no one else even came close!”

“You immature—!”

“Hey! I’m trying to be honest here for once after my near-death experience; you’re the one choking me!”

“I’m not choking you.” Though his arm had slipped up a bit towards Sylvain’s throat. He was breathing just fine though; certainly fine enough to keep talking.

“Okay, well, whatever you’re doing, how about you kiss me again instead?”

Felix’s gaze flickered up to meet Sylvain’s and there was a glint back in those warm amber eyes. “Will it shut you up?”

A smile crept across Sylvain’s lips. “Only one way to find out.”

Smug, beautiful bastard. Felix stared at Sylvain’s lips for a beat then pressed in to do just that, shutting Sylvain up with a claiming, almost bruising kiss. To think that he might not have had a chance to do this. If Sylvain had died…A noise he’d deny later escaped him and he pressed closer still, his arms moving to hold Sylvain rather than pin him. Goddess, he loved this stupid man. He almost couldn’t believe that this was happening, that he was kissing Sylvain and that he tasted and felt this incredible and real and alive under his hands. And, best of all, Sylvain was responding with just as much passion as Felix felt.

Breathing no longer felt like a high priority as Felix tried to memorize everything about the moment they were sharing now. He kissed Sylvain with all the ferocity and determination he felt when he sparred, his whole being narrowed down to the single goal of losing himself in the sensation...

But a second later, Sylvain broke their kiss, pressing his head back against his pillow just far enough to speak but close enough that their lips still brushed as he moved. “How’d you get so good at kissing anyway? No way that this is your first time, but I haven’t seen you hanging around anyone special. Maybe you’re just a natural.”

Couldn’t he just let things be, even for a moment? A blush returned hot to Felix’s cheeks and he ducked his head down to press his face into the crook of Sylvain’s neck. “ _Shut up_.”

“Make me.”

There was laughter in his voice and Felix wondered if Sylvain knew exactly what he was doing. Stupid, smug, beautiful, _brilliant_ man that he was. Pushing himself back up, he gripped Sylvain’s jaw, holding him still for a moment to just study the man beneath him, then leaned in for another deep kiss. He had a lot of catching up to do, but he had a feeling he had the rest of his life to practice. 

Golden-yellow late-afternoon light filtered in through the tall windows lining the second floor of the monastery as Ingrid made her way toward the infirmary with a platter laden down with food still warm from the kitchen. She’d spent most of the early morning passed out from exhaustion after staying up with Felix by Sylvain’s bedside the night before and then woken with the sun to ride out to join the rest of the Blue Lions and Byleth in their careful search of the Sealed Forest where Sylvain and Felix had been attacked. They had found an additional enemy unit nearby earlier in the night but nothing after that. Ingrid had just gotten back and was eager to check in on her boys. She hadn’t heard anything from Felix all day, which she considered to be a good thing, but she wanted to see for herself. She was also certain that Felix hadn’t bothered to leave Sylvain alone long enough to feed himself yet.

Shouldering open the door, she blinked a few times as her eyesight adjusted to the dimmer light inside the infirmary. “Felix, I brought you some dinner—oh!” a grin lit her face, “Heh. It’s about time.”

Both men were fast asleep, curled up together on the cot on their sides—the only way they could both probably fit. Felix was pressed tight up against Sylvain’s back, his slimmer form curled around Sylvain, one hand wrapped around to rest against the pale skin of Sylvain’s stomach beneath a line of bandages and his other hand splayed out across his chest.

Biting her cheek to keep any noise quiet, Ingrid silently set the platter of food down on the nightstand beside the cot and crept back out of the room. She wondered if she should tell the others but, no, she was sure that Felix and Sylvain would reveal it themselves sooner than later. Besides, she expected that everyone else already knew that they would inevitably get together. But at least some good had come from all this. Seeing those two happy would make everything worth it in the end.


End file.
